Sorting Revisited
by Rianna Potter
Summary: I saw the Tournament; I saw the grief stricken faces. I watched those who had seen it all suffer, just from the loss of one person's life. And I had seen their minds, I had seen their futures. I had predicted their destinies. One shot.


**Author's Notes:** This fic was challenged by Seren Quirke from the Accio Firebolt forums. It's not my best work, and no, it's not my first fic. I appreciate all reviews :)

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing at all. If you thought so, go pick up the hard copy of Order of the Phoenix over there and hit yourself on the head really hard.

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**Sorting Revisited**

My job isn't easy: sorting fifty or so kids a year, all of them with high expectancies. They want the right house. They want to be with friends. And every year their fate is given to me, to choose, to create.

If I wanted to, I could take my task lightly, just naming off a house, giving no thought to it. I could have put Draco Malfoy into Gryffindor if I really wanted to. Dumbledore trusts me with the task. He puts their destinies in my 'hands' year after year, having no doubt that I shall fail.

But what if I slipped? What if I accidentally put a girl into Hufflepuff who really belonged in Slytherin? What if I had put Fred and George Weasley into Ravenclaw, breaking their family chain and raising all hell in the house of Ravenclaw?

Some show something on the outside, but it's not their true heart. Hermione Granger was one of them. 'Books and cleverness' they like to call her. She may have wit and intelligence, the qualities of a Ravenclaw, but her strong will to carry on, the purity of her heart, places her in the noble house of Gryffindor. Ron Weasley would have been particularly upset if I had placed her in Ravenclaw six years ago.

As I watched old and new students alike pile into the Great Hall, I saw all I had once seen and sorted. My eyes fell upon Cho Chang; now in her seventh and final year at Hogwarts, playing the Seeker on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team; a loss so young in her life, still vaguely visible in the outline of her joyous face.

I had watched the Triwizard Tournament two years back. I had seen the four champions enter their tasks and succeed. On the night of the third, Viktor Krum of the Bulgarian Durmstrang and Fleur Delacour of the French Beauxbatons were both eliminated by will, both Cedric Diggory and Harry Potter remaining.

I saw Harry retreat from the maze several hours later, along with Cedric. But it was not the same Cedric. His body sprawled over Harry's arms, lifeless, breathless, and colorless. The Triwizard trophy lay foot by foot behind him. Not caring, not speaking. If he hadn't been moving I would have thought he had ceased to go on right on the spot.

No joy, no glory upon his face. The pale face of his, his arm covered in blood. The crowd stopped cheering, silence swept over the Quidditch pitch. It was like another basilisk was among the crowd with all eyes on itself.

The day was over. No one spoke in the corridors, no one chatted at dinner. A pin's drop on the first floor could have been heard at the top of the Astronomy Tower.

I sat at the end of the faculty table the night of the Triwizard Tournament closing feast. I watched the sullen faces; I saw tears spilling freely from every direction. But only two of those faces were grief stricken, full of endless pain. One with no want, no glory, no faith; the other full of emotion, a red face stained with dry tears, wales sounding from mouth. Harry Potter and Cho Chang sat at their house tables, basking in mournfulness.

A brave spirit labeled with a scar, and a lonely soul masked under a small Seeker. A bond between three - the house Quidditch Seekers of Hogwarts less one. Three united houses, leaving one to stand alone.

Cho Chang never lost heart. She did as Dumbledore had said - _remember Cedric Diggory_. No one, not even herself, had known what was too come. Year by year, terror sprung. A stone, a chamber, a prisoner, a goblet, and a law.

No one ever doubted her place at Hogwarts. Her mind ready, she always put herself out. The only one raising above her a Gryffindor girl less on year herself, a friend of Harry Potter. A friend of the boy who brought back her beloved. The girl who took away Harry a year before when she needed him most.

Right when McGonagall landed me on her head, I declared her to be a Ravenclaw. The house in which the quick witted and ready minded resided. Amongst the crowd were future friends. Yet a girl unaccepting of major change sat under my brim, anxious to be place. When I called out "RAVENCLAW!" to the crowd, she eagerly jumped up, masking her insecurities and showing joy and glee.

But as she strode into the Great Hall this time around, her face showed brightness, _real_ brightness. No masked emotions, just pure happiness. It has been nearly two years since the Triwizard, and she finally let go. She no longer grasped onto what once was.

She was no longer the center of her friends, but amongst them. Her perspective changed and her path cleared. It was like opening a new page in the book of life; a fresh, clean start. Most may not have noticed it, and her life does not depend on that any longer- the noticing part anyways.

And it's at times like this that I fully appreciate my given task - dealing with the destiny of the witch and wizard population of the world.

_Fin.

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**Author's Notes:** I'll love you all for eternity if you pop in a review, even if it's not the best.


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